


justice is blind

by crownoffeathers



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blind Character, Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, No Major Character Death, Romance, phil gets blinded and tech gets angry that’s it that’s the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-15 07:48:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28685103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crownoffeathers/pseuds/crownoffeathers
Summary: The butcher army pays a visit to Phil. How much help could a blind man be to an anarchist?Aforementioned anarchist is furious.
Relationships: Technoblade/Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 498





	justice is blind

Phil’s prison was so, so close. Even with the distance between their own Arctic home and the piece of property in L’Manberg, Techno was able to easily traverse the terrain, be it by horse, trident, or pearl; he had memorized the route. He could be there in minutes.

It still felt so far when he was on the raised platforms, the docks that stretched out into the craters he had deepened, running to the door. He paid no mind to caution; his invisibility potion was all he bothered with when he’d entered. The particles were easy to see when the user was moving so fast, but a sense of urgency spurred him on nonetheless.

A few minutes ago, far too long ago, his communicator had buzzed.

_ Phil: tehcnm  _

_ Phil: tehhebchno m ad housarrest _

_ Phil: lmnngerb _

_ Phil: hklp _

The garbled messages had been more than cause for concern; though not the most eloquent between them, Phil was more than capable of constructing complete thoughts. At least, he normally was. 

Techno had pulled on his cloak, shouted a hurried explanation to a curious Wilbur, and left, little care for the door behind him. The journey had been swift and merciless; his skin was wind-bitten, legs sore from the hurried riding but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

Not as he wrenched open the door, striding inside with barely a blink when it slammed back against the frame, swept with the wind.

A single lantern was glowing, saving the house from total darkness. He turned against it, towards the back corner of the house. Bent over a table, shuddering, was a familiar silhouette. He stared, heart jumping into his throat.

He went to speak, but they beat him to it. 

“Techno…?” It was barely a whisper; too soft. He strained to hear it, stepping closer to the voice. “Is that you?”

Phil turned toward the light.

It swept over his face, making the two scars that crossed his eyes and the bridge of his nose visible. They were long, and jagged; they met in an x over his right eye, just above where brilliant blue once shone.

Now it was pale, milk-white and barely defined against his sclera. 

They weren’t clean. The struggle was evident. 

Fury was coiling up his spine, wrapping around his lungs and cruelly squeezing the breath out of them. 

Techno stepped forward, barely. The floorboards creaked under his weight. The blonde’s head jerked down and to the side, an ear cocked.

Listening, he realized. 

One of his hands scrabbled against the surface of the table, clutching something before coming up. 

“Who are you?” He demanded. The knife shone in his grip, held with none of the poise typical of his partner. 

“It’s me.” He choked out. The voices in his head had been stunned as much as he was. They were starting to ring in his ears, though, picking up speed with his own hurried thoughts.

_ Eyes. Eyes are gone. Blind. Blindza. No, no, no, revenge. Scars. Bloody. Blood. Blood for the blood god. Blood for the blood— _

“Techno.” The knife clattered to the ground, slipping from suddenly loose fingers. Phil stepped forward, just before his breath hitched. He lunged forward as the man tripped on some object lying on the floor, just managing to catch him in his arms. Hands were traveling up his arms. One caught in the fabric of his cloak, fisting around the fur on the collar. The other kept moving up, finally stopping when his palm rested against his cheek, thumb swiping over one tusk. 

His partner made a choked sort of noise. Techno sunk from where he’d been crouching onto the floor, gathering the man further into his arms. 

“Who.” 

Phil turned his head into his chest and sobbed a horrible little chuckle. 

“Who did this.” He asked again. His hand lifted, hovering over where the scars gleamed, fresh. 

“Th’ army.” The blonde gasped out. Techno recoiled when he released he’d accidentally brushed one of the wounds with the pad of his thumb, hissing an apology. The offending hand wrapped around his head, instead, pulling him impossibly closer.

_ Kill. Army. Butcher Army. Your fault. Kill them. Spill blood. Blood for the blood god. Blood for revenge. _

“Can you,” he faltered, looking down at him. “see  _ anything?” _

“No,” he shook. 

“I’m going to fix this.” He vowed. “And I’m going to kill that son of a bitch.”

“Mhhh.” 

“Phil?” He glanced down again, concern pulling against the scowl that had begun to develop. 

“Wanna’ go home.” He sighed. The exhale caught on a breath, pitching up minutely. 

“We’re going to.” Techno affirmed. “Gonna pick you up, okay, love?” 

He felt a nod against his chest. Gently, he swept his arms underneath the man. He was thankful, for once, that his wings had been retracted; it made his lover lighter, and as much as he loved that facet of him, his primary objective was to get him out.

The hybrid stood, adjusting him. 

“We’re goin’ now, yeah?” 

“Brace’ets.” He mumbled into his cloak. 

Techno cocked a brow in question.

He got no response.

_ Oh. _

“Heh?” He repeated, audibly. 

“Ankle bracelets.” The blonde enunciated. “Can’t leave. Tried.”

His gaze travelled to the small iron cuffs around the man’s ankles. They were tight against the shoes beneath them, cutting so closely they had to be impairing circulation.

Not for the first time, his anger suffocated him, threatening to steal the already harsh breaths escaping him.

“I can get those off.” He wasn’t sure of the truth of that; they gleaned with obvious enchantment.

_ Curse of Binding.  _ The voices supplied.  _ Tubbo. _

The low snarl resonating in his chest made the man in his arms pull away. He tugged him closer in response. 

“Not you.” He murmured. “Gonna’ set you down for a min’, okay?”

He received no response, but assumed he was heard anyway. He dropped the man off gently on the table he’d initially been leaning over, clearing it first with a sweep of his arm. Nothing so valuable he couldn’t replace it. Nothing as valuable as Phil. 

One of his hands stayed firmly gripping his sleeve; he let it be. He pulled his pickaxe from his hip, carefully angling so it aligned with the side of the cuff. His other hand steadied the cuff. 

“Gonna’ break it, now.” He announced. Techno couldn’t swing like he would clearing debris and rock; it had to be careful, precise. He brought it down in a half sort of swing, pleased when the efficiency enchantment wrought a fissure along the middle of the band. Another few cautious strikes and it fractured completely, falling off the man.

Then, it started ringing. It was loud—  _ so _ loud. The hand on his sleeve clutched tighter around his arm.

“The  _ fuck _ is that!” Phil shouted thickly. 

“Fuck— alarm enchantment, I have to break this other one fast—“ a few stronger swings and the next broke. The noise multiplied twofold. It was high-pitched; it screamed in his ears. It wasn’t helped at all by the voices yelling at him as well, telling him to  _ move, people are coming, enemy, enemies, Phil-hurters, take him away— _

“Grabbin’ ya.” He grunted, pulling the man into a bridal carry.

“Bloody  _ fuck—“ _ the man swore at the jostling. 

“Sorry— leaving.” 

Voices were shouting from outside his head as well, he quickly realized when he exited the building. He recognized one by backlit ears; Fundy. The others were too far, shadowed by the night. 

“Grandpa!” He shouted, running forward. Determination blazed in his eyes. The fox hybrid pulled out an axe. “You can’t fucking take him!”

Blood roared in his ears. He shifted so he was partially turned, gently removing Phil from his back. He stole a dagger from his belt, pressing it carefully into the blonde’s hands.

“Stab anyone who comes close.” He murmured. A nod.

He turned back to the quickly gathering crowd, swinging his rocket launcher from his back and pointing it into the group. 

“Give him back, Technoblade.” Tubbo. “You don’t have to do this.” Talking to him like  _ he  _ was the threat. “We just want Phil back, we just want to keep him safe.”

His crossbow dipped as he struggled to process the words. 

“What did you say.” 

“We—“ the president glanced between his comrades nervously. “—we want to keep Phil safe?”

“Well you fuckin’ did a great job of that, blinding him!” The brunette looked stunned. Good. “He was never yours to  _ keep.” _ He snarled.

His crossbow rose again. His hair whipped against his face with the force of the blast, firework exploding against the surface of the docks. Oh, he wanted to kill them.

But there was more at stake than himself. 

He shot another rocket before he spun on his heels, equipping it to his back and running to Phil. 

“Don’t stab me!” He shouted his warning a mere second before he grabbed the man, hoisting him over his shoulder. 

Luckily, his thinking didn’t seem to be impaired, since he wasn’t the recipient of a knife in his flesh. 

“What the  _ fuck _ is going on?” Phil demanded.

“Blowing up some motherfuckers. We’re going home.”

He bristled at the first comment; relaxed into his arms at the second. Carl was coming into view; their ticket out of the damned country. 

“Yeah?” 

Techno grinned.

“Yeah.”


End file.
